To Repair a Shattered Prince
by FuryOfTheBlackness
Summary: Rose has been out of the Marines for a few years now. Her life is as normal as it could ever be. Then a mysterious man appears in her living room. Terrible summary. Rated M for swearing and possible adultish themes later on. Post-Avengers. Loki/OC


**Ok so this is the first fanfic I've ever had enough bravery to post. I honestly hope you enjoy it. Please leave a comment on your opinion of my story.**

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Chapter 1

As I wake up, I see that it's still dark outside. 2 AM. Great. Just the perfect time to wake up in the middle of the fucking night. So much for getting some good old fashioned shut eye. I get up and start heading towards the kitchen for a glass of water. Yeah, I know it's kinda cliche I suppose. But I'm thirsty and I'm up anyway. As I head for the kitchen, I get this overwhelming sense that I'm being watched. It's probably just Whiskers, the creepy little ball of grey fluff that is my cat. Stupid cat. If someone didn't know otherwise, at first glance, he looks like a breathing dust bunny. He has a habit of sitting on shelves and just staring at people. What a weirdo. I turn around and look at my living room, half-expecting to see the little fucker staring at me with those yellow orbs. Nope. Not there.

When I turn around, my heart hits the floor as I see two eyes in the darkness. No, they do not belong to Whiskers. I don't remember him being over six foot with green eyes. Well, there's only one word that comes to my mind at the moment. Shit. I start to back up, never taking my own eyes off of the tall figure in my kitchen. I reach behind my old bookshelf to grab my machete. What? I gotta protect myself somehow.

"You do realize that's not going to hurt me," says a charismatic voice from the shadows.

"Well, I can damn well try to hurt ya," I snarl out. Great. Now my Southern twang is showing its ugly buck-toothed head. A light is switched on and then I see the figure completely.

A man of about 6"7 towers above me. Pitch black locks flow like a river out of his scalp. I'm talking about the kind of hair that does what it wants, and what it wants is to look good. When I complete my full body scan of him, I look up at the man's face and my heart stops. His jawline is sharp and symmetrical, but strong and regal, like a king. Thin, yet perfect lips lie upon his face in an unreadable expression. His nose is straight and regal. High cheekbones graced his features with small shadows. Black eyebrows that were straight on a snow white brow brought me to the man's eyes.

Those eyes! A deep troubled forest sprang to life. An overwhelming amount of pain was forcibly hidden to anyone who didn't look close enough. Pain that had to have been growing since a childhood filled with silence and it had never been forgotten. The sorrow of a thousand dying suns burned within this mysterious man. The eyes aren't just windows to the soul, but doors. Then, as if noticing my presence within his soul, the doors slammed shut and left me in reality, which seemed even more cruel than I once thought it to be. For what had this enigma of a man had to endure to cause such pain within his very being? What caused the silence and why had no one seen?

When I come back to my senses, I put my hands to my face and feel wet trails down the pale plains of my cheeks. I haven't cried in quite some time, not since...

"Are you quite alright? Please, do not shed any tears. That was not my intention of coming here," says the man, breaking me away from my thoughts. "I do not wish sorrow upon you, a kindred spirit."

"What do you mean by kindred spirit?" I ask, trying to regain my composure.

He looks startled for just a moment and then started to speak once more. "One who has felt loss and pain, the kind that no one else ever seems to understand, no matter how hard we try to get them to. They do not understand because they don't even try to take the time or care enough to attempt figuring out the cause of the sorrow and pain," he responded, looking down and slightly clenching his fists. "You see it now, do you not? That I am speaking truth?"

"Yeah, yeah. A few more questions though," I answer back, "Who the bloody hell are you? Why the did you choose me? And how the fuck did you get into my apartment?"

A small little smirk cautiously graces the man's face, as if it was afraid to make an appearance. "I am Loki Laufeyson, The God of Mischief. I chose the woman who seemed the most intellectual, and who had enrolled in the armed forces because she needed to prove everyone wrong. I chose you because you are like me. You might understand my pain and I, yours. And getting in here wasn't exactly the most challenging thing in the nine realms. Magic flows through my blood," he states and, as if to prove his point, he makes my machete levitate and fly behind the bookshelf. He walks forward and I take a step back to let him pass by. As he does so, Loki ghosts his long fingers across my abdomen. I take a small intake of air. His fingers had brushed over the scar caused by a knife.

'Does he know about it?' I ask myself, suddenly self conscious. 'Wait. How does he know I was in the Marines?'

Loki strolls over to my two-seater couch and sits down on the left side. Then after a short period of time, he asks,"Would it be alright with you if I changed into what the men of your world wear? I find it to be a little more comfortable than my armor at the moment."

"Sure go ahead. By the way, how did you know I was in the Marines?" I softly demand.

He looks at me with caring eyes as his armor melts away, changing to black slacks, Italian leather shoes, a white button up shirt, and a black tie around his neck. "I can sense the traces of battle etched into your skin. I've seen how you try to cover them up. The names of well-known comrades who fell are inked into your skin, so you will never forget them. The tags you wear belong to you and a man too young to have died. You have his tags because his mother didn't want to be reminded of his death. The very same woman who you let hold onto you for dear life as she wept. I see the medals, one of which is the highest of your country, on your shelf next to pictures of remembrance and times with those lost. But most of all, I see the painful memories that will forever be part of you and how strong you are. You are truly the most honorable person I have ever happened to come across this world. A world that is forever changing and living in chaos. Greed rules your world, yet you try to make it a better place for future generations every second of your life," he replies and precedes to stand up again. "You have come to my attention far more than any creature I have ever met, and yet there is still more to you, Rose. A whole life's worth to learn and understand. You are astonishing and amazing. You are you." His long hands grasp mine. Loki flashes a kind smile and gives me a kiss upon my forehead, then my nose, and finally my lips. His lips linger there for a few sweet seconds before I lean into it. It was a tender kiss filled with love and compressed longing to be loved. I could only hope that I could repair even just a little of the damage that had been done. Maybe I could repair the broken prince of ice.

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**So this was chapter one. What did you think? Should I continue? I'm not sure if I should or not though.**


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